


On a Warm Summer Night

by aron_kristina



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: F/M, Floral clock, Food, Golem Horse, Quirm, Rare Pairings, Restaurants, rare ship swap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-15
Updated: 2013-06-15
Packaged: 2017-12-15 01:41:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/843827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aron_kristina/pseuds/aron_kristina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Quirm was not all she had expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On a Warm Summer Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Etnoe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Etnoe/gifts).



Riding through Quirm was supposedly a very romantic thing, and in a way it was, but she couldn’t help remembering something she’d read in the Times, about golem horses being like riding flowerpots. It was probably that von Lipwig who had said it. He had a neat turn of phrase, even if he was untrustworthy.

Nutt had put down pillows, and she did have some natural padding, but that didn’t change the fact that she no longer had any sensation in her bottom. She could only imagine how Nutt felt, but perhaps he didn’t suffer from it, what with being an orc and all.

Luckily though, the actual ride was quite short, what with Quirm not being that big, and once they had come out the other side they had to turn around to go back, because they both wanted to see something of Quirm. Of course, the only things people talked about when it came to sightseeing in Quirm were the floral clock and the Quirm College for Young ladies, but Glenda felt sure there was more to it. There had better be more to it, because otherwise she would feel silly for dreaming about it.

Nutt helped her off the horse, and she winced as she started getting sensation back in her nethers in the form of needles and pins.

“Do you wish to see the floral clock? I understand that if you want to experience its full splendor you should come back every hour, but perhaps we can view it now and then again before we leave,” Nutt said.

“That sounds nice,” said Glenda, trying not to squirm to much. Of course, Nutt’s acute senses didn’t let her get away with it, but thankfully he didn’t comment, just glanced at the horse and looked apologetic.

The floral clock was... well, it was a large clock. Made of flowers. Sure, that it could tell the time was not a bad trick, but to be honest it was rather ugly, lots and lots of little flower buds and not very impressive leaves, and some purple flowers that bloomed, but looked like they’d rather not.

“It’s very...” Glenda tried, but couldn’t really find any words.

“I think that the idealistic intent in this case is more beautiful than the physical reality,” Nutt said.

“Er, yes,” Glenda said. “Maybe we could get something to eat?”

“I think Quirm is famous for its snails...” Nutt began.

“No,” Glenda said. “There are some things I would rather not even think about eating..”

“Oh, I’m sure there are other things. I believe I read something about pancakes filled with savoury things, and of course duck’s liver, and the famous cheeses.”

“Duck’s liver? That doesn’t sound like something to be famous for. Maybe they cook it in some kind of special way. Let’s see if we can find some place that serves it.”

After Nutt had asked a passing gentleman (for it was definitely a gentleman, commoners weren’t rude in quite that manner) and gotten sneered at, they found a woman who directed them to a place which looked very posh. Glenda was about to protest, but Nutt told her that Lady Margolotta had given him some money, and that he wanted to spend it here.

It was apparently not a busy night, either that or the success of the new football and Nutt’s role in it had spread, so they were seated almost at once. Glenda had heard rumors about fancy restaurants and she didn’t think common people like them could get a table that quickly, but she didn’t protest.

The inside was much like she had expected, fancy people in fancy clothes, and they were ushered to a table in the corner, presumably so they wouldn’t be seen. She had put on her nicest clothes, but compared to the other people she might as well have been wearing rags. Glenda wasn’t used to feeling out of place in the presence of food, but that was exactly how she was feeling, uncomfortable and awkward.

When the waiter came around Glenda had given up trying to figure out what to order, so she just looked helplessly at Nutt. If she’d been on her own she probably would have given the waiter a dirty look before demanding that he explain exactly what all the food was, but she didn’t want to ruin things for Nutt, so she let him order in perfect Quirmian.

Small talk wasn’t really something either of them did, but Glenda tried to chat while they waited for their food. Nutt talked like he’d learned small talk out of a book, which, now she came to think about it, he probably had. It was the atmosphere in the restaurant, it had to be. They could usually find interesting thing to talk to each other about, but something in the air made it impossible to behave like normal people, because normal people didn’t go to nobby places like this.

When they finally got out of the restaurant Glenda was feeling bewildered, angry and hungry! They charged that much money for something that wouldn’t even be enough for a child! She took Nutt’s hand.

“We are going to look for some real food now,” she said. “I’m sorry about ruining the evening.”

She tried to feel contrite, she really did, but it was difficult. She was still angry about the meagre food offerings of the fancy restaurant.

“It was rather sparse, yes. I believe that is one of the marks of a posh restaurant,” Nutt said calmly.

“I don’t see how making people leave hungry is very posh,” Glenda said. “But the liver was good,” she added grudgingly.

She was leading them into the smaller alleys of the city, where the houses were smaller and plainer and the streets grubbier.

“I think we’re going in the direction of the harbour,” Nutt said.

“Good. They probably have someone who cooks something more filling there.”

“It does smell a bit like food.”

“Does it? I can’t smell anything,” Glenda said, and then she could smell it. She sniffed and tried to distinguish between the various smells, but all she could tell was that it was fish, and shellfish, and various herbs and spices that combined into something heavenly.

They followed their noses and ended up at a short pier where a woman was stirring a large pot in which Glenda could see tomatoes and fish and various other things.

“What is this?” she asked, intrigued.

“Fish soup,” the woman said. “Fish and tomato and things what I can buy from the fishermen. Different every night, good every night.”

“We’ll have two bowls,” said Glenda, before Nutt could say anything. The cook ladled up two big servings and Glenda paid for them. Then they walked out to the end of the pier and sat down with their legs dangling over the edge. Glenda held up her bowl to her nose and inhaled deeply. It smelled quite amazing.

“I think it’s seasoned with a special flower called crocus,” Nutt said. “I read about it. It also gives the fish its yellow tint.”

Glenda suddenly put her bowl down next to her and took Nutt’s hand.

“Thank you,” she said, and she wasn’t sure if it was because he’d gone with her to get the soup, for the dinner, which he had paid for after all, for the trip or just for existing. “Thank you.”

Then she kissed him.


End file.
